And the Fracture Becomes Shattered Bone
by AriaAdagio
Summary: My response to Kyer's Fractured Fairytale challenge.


A FRIGHTENINGLY FRACTURED FAIRYTALE: AN FKFIC CHALLENGE  
AND THE FRACTURE BECOMES SHATTERED BONE...  
  
Standard disclaimers apply. These characters aren't mine,   
I'm just messing with their lives a bit. Permission is   
granted to archive on fkfanfic.com, and the ftp site. This   
story is in response to Kyer's Frighteningly Fractured   
Fairytale challenge. And boy, is this one fractured...   
  
Just to warn you, this has not been beta read by anyone   
except myself, and I do believe that my warped sense of   
humor has gotten away from me on this one... Oh well, the   
product was... interesting :)   
  
Comments, questions, feedback, and all that good stuff may  
be sent to Diane Harris at aria5@vt.edu!  
  
AND THE FRACTURE BECOMES SHATTERED BONE...  
  
'Once upon a time...'  
  
He stared down at his laptop and groaned. That was sooooooo  
bloody clichéd... Jamming his finger down on the delete   
key with such force that it was surprising the poor thing   
didn't squish into a pile of electronic scrap, he tried to   
think of something that wasn't so damned predictable.   
  
'It was a dark and...'  
  
NO!!! He snapped his fingers repeatedly, trying to get SOME   
inspiration. Any inspiration at all...   
  
'It was the best of times...'  
  
But he failed to get it. What to say? What to say? He   
pinched the bridge of his nose, completely absorbed in   
thought as needed circulation was cut off from the   
appendage.   
  
He needed... motivation. He needed...   
  
"LaCroix... I need help..."  
  
Yes, help. He needed help. Help would be good... He had   
never been much of a writer... Oh!!! Someone was speaking   
to him...  
  
"Not now, Nicholas. I am in the middle of writ..." LaCroix   
paused as he looked up at his blond protégé. Waaaait...   
This might be all right! "Nicholas, I require your   
assistance..."  
  
"But..." Nick looked confused. Silence reigned for what   
seemed like an eternity until finally LaCroix's protégé   
spoke, quiet and hesitant. "I don't get it..."   
  
Sigh... Did he _ever_? It was a debatable question... "I   
need your help," he rephrased his words evenly, hoping that   
eventually Nick would get it on his own.   
  
A whole weird string of emotions flickered across Nick's   
face until finally, there was at least an inkling of   
understanding... "Help? You?" he asked incredulously.   
  
"Yes, help," LaCroix confirmed, quickly becoming irritated.   
This was not how he'd imagined spending the night... In   
fact... before this bloody inspiration to write something   
literature-like struck his mind, he'd fully intended to sit   
back and give a nice long depressing monologue on CERK about   
why buzz cuts were good for aerodynamic flight...  
  
"Well..." Nick paused. "Ok," he said with a shrug. "There   
isn't some catch to this," he asked suspiciously, "is   
there?"  
  
"No," LaCroix replied. This was getting tiresome.   
  
"Uh huh..." Nick said warily, crossing his arms over his   
chest in the perfect, 'HA! I defy you!' stance. "Fine," he   
said finally, "What do you want..."   
  
"Help. I thought we had already gone over this," LaCroix   
growled in response. Damn, but that boy was dense...   
  
"No! I meant, what did you want help on?" Nick clarified,   
quickly saving himself from LaCroix's menacing glare of   
death. Even so, he retreated backwards a few steps.  
  
"Well, see, I am trying to convert this script into a story,   
and I'm just not seeing anything here. I need motivation!"   
LaCroix cried, his fists in the air, suddenly quite   
emotional. Well, it was his first writing experience, he   
was bound to get excited. Gosh, he'd never written anything   
before that would qualify as intellectual. This was an   
experience!  
  
Nick looked perplexed. "Ok... So what the heck am I   
supposed to do about your writer's block?"  
  
LaCroix snapped back to reality and stared at Nick. "Well,   
do you think that maybe we could act it out? You know, so   
I can get a feel for the dramatic overtones..." he gestured   
frantically between them as he explained.  
  
Nick rolled his eyes in response. "Sure... sure why not...   
It's not like I've got homicides, a crazy captain, and an   
overcaffeinated partner to deal with already..." he grumbled   
softly, snatching the script from LaCroix's firmly clutched   
hands. His eyes darted left to right as he read the page   
over. And over... And over... He apparently doubted the   
literary content of such a fine work. "LaCroix... you can't   
be serious?" he asked, his eyes questioning.  
  
"I'm absolutely serious! It's an admirable work of   
symbolism and art! I want to do it as much justice as I   
possibly can!" LaCroix exclaimed enthusiastically, hovering   
behind him. "Could you read for that part? I'll do this   
one..." he said.  
  
"But..." Nick protested.  
  
"Look, you have acting experience, it seems logical to me   
that you get the bigger part..." LaCroix explained, trying   
to get Nicholas to see the big picture. The dramatic   
picture. The literary picture!  
  
"Fine... fine! Jeez... I swear though, if you ever breathe   
a word of this..." Nick threatened.  
  
"If you do it I promise not to torment you for at least a   
week..."   
  
LaCroix was not given a chance to finish, however. Nick put   
his hand up and silenced him. "Ok! All right... Let's   
see..."  
  
Nicholas looked over the script for a few moments and then   
placed it down beside them on a nearby table. He cleared   
his throat several times, seemingly dislodging any and all   
mucus that could've possibly been there to prevent him from   
entering his...  
  
"Nichola! LaCroix! What are you doing in here?" Janette   
asked as she entered the room.   
  
LaCroix visibly deflated at the interruption, and his jaw   
slackened in disappointment until he realized... "Janette!   
Here, look at this," he said, grabbing the script off the   
table only to shove it hastily into her hands. "Read that   
part..." he said, pointing.   
  
Silence.   
  
Janette cocked her head, her eyebrows raised in inquiry.   
"Is this a game?"  
  
Nicholas coughed, an odd look on his face. "LaCroix   
needs... uh... inspiration..."   
  
"Ah..." she responded. "All right then..."  
  
Janette took a deep breath and turned to Nick. "Grandma is   
ill," she began, a questioning look on her face. "Take her   
this basket of cakes, but be _very_ careful. Keep to the   
path through the wood and don't ever stop. That way, you   
will come to no harm," she cautioned, but then she turned to   
LaCroix.  
  
"LaCroix... this does not seem like a logical play..." she   
began. "Why would I want to give a sick person cakes? I   
thought the mortal standard was chicken soup..." she   
explained, suddenly confused, but LaCroix just waved her   
off.  
  
"Never mind that. Just keep going..." he prodded.  
  
Janette nodded, however reluctantly, and turned back to   
Nick, recomposing herself.  
  
Nick again did that funny 'clearing of throat ritual' before   
he began in what had to be the cutest little falsetto   
LaCroix had ever heard, "Don't worry! I'll run all the way   
to Grandma's without stopping!" he cried enthusiastically,   
and then despite the smirk on Janette's face, Nicholas gave   
Janette a peck on the cheek and skipped off to the other   
side of the room, where he bent down, peering at an   
imaginary object that only he could see.  
  
"What lovely strawberries! And so red..." he claimed,   
picking up a 'strawberry' in his hand and plopping it into   
his mouth.   
  
While Janette was trying furiously not to laugh, Nick   
continued to bounce around the room as if suffering a   
stronger than normal sugar high, going this way and that,   
pointing out everything off the path that he had so   
earnestly promised his 'mother' that he would stay on, until   
he literally ran right into LaCroix.  
  
LaCroix, normally, would've been exceedingly annoyed. But   
he merely smiled a sly smile. "Where are you going, my   
pretty girl, all alone in the woods?" LaCroix asked,   
smoothly.  
  
"Um... to Grandma's; she lives at the end of the path" Nick   
replied nervously, looking this way and that, anywhere but   
into LaCroix's eyes.  
  
LaCroix smiled. "Does your grandma live... _alone_?" he   
asked, trying desperately to keep the menace out of his   
voice.   
  
"Oh yes! She _never_ opens the door to stran," Nick's voice   
cracked back into his normal tone, but he quickly fixed it   
and continued. "Strangers," he finished.  
  
"Ah then. Goodbye. Perhaps we shall meet again..." LaCroix   
whispered forebodingly and then bounded off. "I will eat   
the little girl's grandmother!" he cried, explaining his   
sinister plan.  
  
"LaCroix?" Nick asked hesitantly in his regular voice.  
  
"What???" LaCroix snapped, suddenly annoyed. Things had   
been going quite well until this interruption...  
  
"I believe the correct line is 'I will gobble the   
grandmother first, then lie in wait for the grandchild'"   
Nick said matter-of-factly.  
  
LaCroix growled. "Perhaps _you_ would like to be the wolf?   
Hmmm?" He tapped his foot. "This is a HARD role! I can't   
relate to it..."  
  
Janette coughed.  
  
"Well, I can't!" he whined. "I've never been a furry   
carnivorous quadruped..."  
  
Nick shrugged. "Hey, two out of three..." he said   
reasonably, raising his hands in defense as he backed slowly   
away.  
  
LaCroix raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I'm a  
quadruped?" he asked, his voice low and angry and very   
dangerous all-around.   
  
"No..." Nick replied honestly.  
  
"That I'm furry???" LaCroix cried incredulously.  
  
Nick said nothing, and LaCroix was about to pounce on him in   
a fit of rage.  
  
"ANYWAY," Janette interrupted loudly, saving Nick from   
certain dismemberment. "Why don't we start again here?   
Everyone knows this part..." she stated reasonably.  
  
"Fine..." LaCroix grumbled, settling down once again to act   
out the scene.  
  
Nick nodded and cleared his throat again. "Grandma! What   
a deep voice you have!" he exclaimed, bouncing up on his   
tiptoes as he brought his clasped hands to his cheek in the   
classic, 'I'm a dainty little girl' maneuver.  
  
"The better to greet you with..." LaCroix replied   
mysteriously, his voice oozing low and smooth from his lips.  
  
"Goodness, what big eyes you have!" Nick exclaimed, his   
falsetto tone so high it was probably up in the rafters   
somewhere communing with the local insect inhabitants.  
  
"The better to see you with..." LaCroix said, growing more   
agitated as the conversation wore on.  
  
"And what big hands you have!" Nick stated, awed.  
  
"The better to hug you with..." LaCroix replied, his voice   
low and irritated now.  
  
"What a big mouth you have!" Nick exclaimed.  
  
"THE BETTER TO EAT YOU WITH!" LaCroix cried, leaping   
forward. He snarled and grabbed Nick, chomping down hard on   
his supple neck. Ecstasy followed as his protégé's blood   
flowed into his mouth and down his throat. It burned him;   
his entire body shivered in intense feeling, until Nick   
slumped lifeless to the floor with a loud hollow thunk.  
  
Seconds past. Minutes...   
  
LaCroix merely stared intently at the floor where Nick lay   
motionless as if he expected something to happen.   
  
"Um, LaCroix? We forgot to cast a hunter... the hunter is   
the one that saves him by killing you..." Janette said   
hesitantly. "I think he is stuck there until then..."   
  
LaCroix looked up at her, surprise marring his usually stony   
gaze.  
  
Janette flipped through the script, reading it over,   
mumbling softly as she went over it. "Yeah... no hunter   
means no Little Red Riding Hood..."  
  
Oops...  
  
"Ah well," LaCroix said, "I suppose that is enough anyway.   
I think I have inspiration for now..." he said, stepping   
spryly over Nick's lifeless form and back to his laptop,   
which was still waiting patiently on the table for him to   
type something of import.  
  
Janette shrugged.  
  
Oops, indeed.  
  
*****  
  
Nick opened his eyes and groaned, very hungry, so hungry he   
couldn't really move. "LaCroix?" he asked as his stomach   
growled relentlessly.  
  
"Not right now, Nicholas... I'm still writing..."  
  
"But..." he protested, trying to sit up and dismally   
failing.  
  
"NOT RIGHT NOW!!!" his sire growled.  
  
Nick sighed and tried to relax. This was going to be a long   
day...   
  
THE END  
  



End file.
